Dreaming
by Francine2869
Summary: A DaveKate breakup story. Mostly Dave POV in a story about how he was feeling just before and after Kate left.


**Dreaming**

_I tried to make this as realistic as (in my opinion) it could have gone but please forgive me if you notice some details that don't fit or wouldn't make sense. I was watching the episode "All's Fair in Love and War"_ _and this story idea appeared to me when I saw how upset Kate was. This is mostly a Dave POV because we didn't really get to hear or see what he was thinking and feeling. Please enjoy and review!_

He was dreaming again. He knew it but he didn't try to wake up and if anything he embraced the delusion wholeheartedly. He'd dreamt of her before, a lot after the first few days she'd been away. Maybe it was the fact that he was sleeping alone again after being able to curl around her small body for so long. Maybe it was the extra stress of the last ditch effort they had put into the relationship and the stress that the heartbreak had caused. Whatever it was, those first few dreams had been more like nightmares as he relived her quiet, dignified crying that she was reduced to after many of their fights. He watched again as she swiped the tears off of her cheeks, not wanting to show weakness to him or the world. He wanted to tell her that weakness was okay and remind her of when she'd trusted him enough to show that side of her and simply _be _instead of trying to be perfect and accept everything. He should have seen it sooner. Although he was avidly enjoying his time in Africa and keeping busy, Kate had started to seem lackluster and slightly regretful of his time being spent elsewhere. Perhaps it was the long hours he spent establishing himself with the locals or the time they did spend together where he excitedly chattered on about illnesses and treatments and new ideas he'd come up with. A lot of the time she listened placidly and congratulated him, but the more he became excited, the further she seemed to move away from him.

The attraction between them still burned strong for longer then their close emotional connection did. Plenty of late nights they spent exploring each other with touch and taste, smell and sound. The dip of her spine just above her waist, the curve of her elbow and the soft, soft skin behind her knee fascinated him. Sometimes the regret of missing all of their past time together, wasting it as friends had nearly done him in. The emotion swept over him sometimes as he watched her dressing some mornings or while sharing a meal with her. He'd almost missed his chance with her and he refused to think of what would have happened if she hadn't written that note. All he thought about in those times was that they were 'meant to be' even though the statement was cliché.

But after a while he hadn't been able to ignore the cold silences and the way she moved away slightly when he stroked a hand down her hair. The first few times he brought it up, however, she merely tried to laugh and brush it away and he figured that he'd let his love bring it up on her own as she was prone to do with most matters. Then they started fighting over it, yelling snarking at each other with crude little insults that left the temper boiling and scratches on the soul. Plenty of times he'd wondered how it had all started and why they were fighting over stupid little things. He knew that Kate had had a bigger adjustment in Africa because of her nature and not being able to control their life, but he'd though she'd accepted it and adapted her way of thinking. Once he realized she might not be as resolved to the lifestyle as he thought, he waited for her to let him in and tell him what she was thinking. He didn't realize that the times she would have opened up and talking to him were the long days and sometimes nights that he spent away from her, thinking that he was just working while she how much longer her heart could continue to beat strongly when her wishes went unnoticed and her dreams unfulfilled.

One night he'd been sure she was going to tell him as she looked seriously over the dinner table at him and asked if he was happy. "Of course," he'd answered. "Are you?" She'd looked at him, really looked at him and was starting to answer when the knock on the door came. It was an emergency that a farmer needed him for and it was one of the few times that he deeply regretted that this business pulled him away from her so often. When he'd returned she'd been asleep and he was tired and his heart worried about her so instead of waking her he slipped into bed and pulled her close, sighing when he found her body warm and accepting. As he quickly drifted off to sleep he failed to notice her eyes open and skim his face, and the puffiness around them that she'd tried to get rid of after her crying jag.

The next few weeks had been difficult and looking back he could see that she'd been trying to find some way to tell him that she was unhappy. Maybe it was his jocular nature that had allowed him to be lulled into some complacency when she seemed to be in a better mood some days and he didn't want to bring up a bad discussion again so he let sleeping dogs lie. One night, however, he returned home late after a call had taken him out to a farm right when he usually came home. He didn't think he'd need to let Kate know but he'd ended up being much later then he thought and was wishing that he had told her what was going on. He found the remnants of a special dinner in the trash and two burned out candles still stood like silent, lonely sentries in the kitchen. Bracing himself he walked into the bedroom and found her sitting silently by the only window in the room, looking out at the stars with a sad, resigned look on her face. He knelt beside her, his intention to apologize, to comfort, to _love._ But the paper she held drew his attention and shocked him into silence. A plane ticket, the departure date half a week from then. To early to be a ticket to coincide with Stevie and Alex's wedding. He'd taken it from her to check for the return date on the return ticket but found none. Calming himself he reasoned that she simply had decided to visit Drovers for longer than they had talked about. She would decide soon and order her ticket. But as he looked up at her he saw the tears and the answer in her eyes. She wasn't planning on returning, at least not anytime soon. He let his hands fall to hers so they lay intertwined on her lap and laid his head on her chest, feeling her breathing beneath his forehead as she leaned forward to rest her head on his. Her hair spilled down like a curtain around them. They sat like that for a time. It could have been minutes or hours but when they straightened there was no talking. He took her hand and pulled her up, swinging her into his arms as he strode across the small room the bed they shared.

It was those precious, sad, bitter moments that he dreamt of now. Of how soft she'd been and how her eyes and seemed to look into him. He had hoped that she'd seen down to his soul to understand what he never could seem to put into words. Each touch that night said more than they had spoken in weeks. He could feel her fingertips trailing over his chest, slowly, as if she was experiencing it for the first time. He touched her hair again, running his hand through the cool strands to find the warmth underneath. Time and time again they lost themselves and only their hearts could be heard in the darkness, along with the breath the rose between searching kisses and lovers' sighs. The next morning he didn't go into work as they made breakfast and ate together and finally talked about their problems.

She'd left a couple days later and since she'd been gone he continued to work harder and longer hours, determined to tire himself out before he returned to an empty, unforgiving home. But no matter how exhausted him found himself when he did crawl into bed to sleep, his body still curled around an empty space that matched the hole he could feel in his chest. Her scent on the sheets soothed and burned him at the same time and he began to hold her pillow close at night, after a week of very gently tracing the indentation of where her head had lain. The cool pillowcase was not comforting, and the shape was all wrong. But it was something. It helped him to sleep slightly better than if he'd had nothing to hang on to. And every morning when he woke, for a single heartbeat, he murmured her name and slid a hand over her side of the bed. Hoping to find her there, and not just in his dreams.


End file.
